


Because I accidentally sent you a dick pic?

by lola381pce



Series: Imagine Clint Coulson Prompts [3]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dick Pics, Face-Fucking, Hand Jobs, Hawkeye never misses...except with his dick pics, Imagine Clint Coulson, M/M, Masturbation, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Natasha is a mean friend, Prompt Fic, Prompt Fill, Tumblr Prompt, accidental dick pics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-10-09 05:18:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10404783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lola381pce/pseuds/lola381pce
Summary: This is a tumblr prompt which tagged @imagineclintcoulson...Boss: Know why I called you in here?Me: Because I accidentally sent you a dick pick?Boss: [stops pouring 2 glasses of wine] Accidentally?





	

**Author's Note:**

> We are always accepting new prompts at our tumblr account, so feel free to drop by with a little headcanon or ask.

Clint slumped onto the couch beside Natasha looking like death warmed up. Proving his fragile state of mind he stole her coffee mug from her hand swallowing a couple of mouthfuls before returning it to her with a grimace. Sugar. Yuck! But needs must and under the sweetness it was still caffeine. And now she would either kill him or slap the back of his head which, right now going by his hangover from hell, would probably also kill him. Either way it would probably be a blessing the way he was feeling.

She did neither. She looked at him sympathetically. Fuck! He must really look rough.

“Bad date?”

Clint nodded and regretted it immediately. Owie! He wished he was wearing his wraparounds.

“The worst. Didn’t get beyond the bar. Got drunk. Ditched him. Came back here. Got more drunk. Yada yada.”

Having a father like his meant he didn’t drink often but on the rare occasions he gave in, it was usually when he was feeling shitty and right now he was feeling very shitty – mostly to do with pining over his handler… again.

“Sorry about the dick pic by the way,” he murmured giving her a sideways glance that made his eyeballs hurt.

Natasha raised an elegant eyebrow at him in query.

“Or there might have been two… maybe three. Anyway… sorry. Wouldn’t have blamed you for kicking my ass.”

“No dick pics, little bird,” she told him sounding amused.

“Stop fucking with me, Tasha. Brain won’t handle it today.”

She pulled out her Stark phone and showed him. She’d received several texts each complaining about the self-centred, whiney futz of a date he had the misfortune of being with but there were definitely no MMS messages. Clint paled.

He removed his own cell from his pocket and opened up his last few texts. There they were. Three dick pics with the member in question getting progressively larger and thicker as he presumably jerked off to his favourite spank bank subject, his BAMF handler. Seriously! Why would he even _think_ of sending these to Natasha? Or anyone _else_ for that matter? He looked at the name against the images… and stopped breathing while simultaneously trying not to throw up or black out. Aww dick pic no! It couldn’t be any worse.

“Who did you…?”

With a horrified expression, he turned the phone to face her. He expected no sympathy and was unsurprised when he got none. But he did get a smirk, which turned into a snort and then full-scale laughter almost causing her to spill the remainder of her coffee.

“Maybe he didn’t get them?” Clint said hopefully.

“Barton. My office in ten. You know what… make that twenty. You need a shower.”

The curt tone of Coulson’s voice from right behind them was unmistakeable. It was his ‘don’t fuck with me’ voice. Natasha bit her lip trying to stop the giggles and Clint almost needed new underwear.

“Just put something nice on my tombstone,” he said as he dragged himself off the couch and headed to his doom.

“Here lies Clint Francis Barton aka ‘Hawkeye’ - the World’s Greatest Marksman. He never missed… except with his dick pics,” she called after him before dissolving into a fit of the giggles again.

“I hate you right now,” he countered flipping her off.

***

Clint stood before Coulson at parade rest, head bowed, mortified beyond words. While he was in the shower, Natasha had taken pity on him and left him a pot of fresh black coffee which he gratefully downed from the pot, swallowing a couple of Advil for his thumping, hungover head. He’d thank her properly later. After brushing his teeth trying to make his breath smell less like stale alcohol and coffee, and a quick sniff of his armpits (shower definitely helped but he sprayed anyway) he dressed in jeans and a faded tight-fitting purple t-shirt then reluctantly left for Coulson’s office in the Tower.

“You know why I called you in here?” Coulson asked quietly from behind his desk. As always his face was inscrutable.

“Because I accidentally send you a dick pic?” Fuck this was torture. In fact give him torture instead. This was excruciating.

“Accidentally? I see.” Coulson hesitated before adding, “And… it was three dick pics.”

Clint only just managed to hold back a groan of embarrassment. He couldn’t fuck up once? No had to be three times!

“Is there anything you’d like to say?”

The archer hung his head so that his chin was almost touching his chest.

“I’m sorry, sir,” he said meekly, half wishing he floor would open up and swallow him already. As an Avenger you had be careful about what you actually wished for. It might come true but with horrible consequences depending on the villain of the week.

“Huh. I guess from the… images, your date didn’t go so well last night.”

Clint raised his head to look at the other man. Kinda personal for Coulson. Plus he didn’t realise he was keeping tabs. However, he couldn’t meet his eyes for long and ducked his head again reaching his hand up to the back of neck to give it a quick rub. A sure sign of his discomfort.

“Yeah… not so much. But I guess I kinda expected it.” Shit! What was he saying? “Besides… he wasn’t really my type.” Yeah. That’s _much_ better. Not that it mattered, he wasn’t exactly going to tell Coulson he was his type. Or that he was the reason his dates kept failing. It’s not like Coulson felt the same way.

“Sorry to hear that.”

“Not as sorry as I am about the… uh… pics, sir. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. It was a mistake and I… uh… really regret it.”

Coulson didn’t speak for a moment but when he did there was a slight change to the timber of his voice. To Clint it always had a slight huskiness to it but now it was gravely as though he’d been gargling with rocks.

“And if I said… I _liked_ the photos… would you still regret it?”

Clint had his aids in but he wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly. Well he had but he needed confirmation. He tipped his head to the side and looked at Coulson whose face was still impassive.

“Sir?”

“If I said I liked your photos, Clint. That perhaps… I’d like to see more of the content. Maybe in the flesh. Would you… _still_ regret it?”

Clint raised his head again this time maintaining eye contact. Coulson’s face and neck were slightly flushed and Clint was pretty damned certain it wasn’t because he was embarrassed. Aroused maybe… a bit like he was becoming himself. All this dick talk was definitely making his twitch in his jeans.

“No, sir. I wouldn’t. I’d say maybe I’d hit the right target after all.”

Coulson’s eyes dropped to Clint’s groin observing the outline of his rapidly hardening cock. He was relieved they seemed to be on the same page and that the sending of the dick pics, however accidental, was working out to their mutual satisfaction.

“Good to know.”

“How good?”

Coulson raised an enquiring eyebrow.

“How good is it to know I hit the right target with my dick… pics?”

Coulson clenched his jaw the muscles bunching into a tight knot. He was getting achingly hard behind his desk. Much more of this teasing and he was likely to come in his pants.

“ _Very_ good, Clint. So good that… perhaps you should give me what I want. Let me see more of the… content. Maybe I should suck that cock of yours until you come with my name on your lips.”

Somehow he managed to keep his voice steady but it had deepened, the lust in it plain to hear. Clint shuddered at his words. At his tone. There was nothing, nothing he wanted more.

His hangover miraculously gone, or at least forgotten, Clint started to walk towards his handler unfastening his jeans, slowly pulling down the zipper. Coulson’s tongue darted out of his mouth to wet his lips, the act making Clint’s cock throb. Were they really going to do this? Coulson pushed his chair back from his desk and spread his legs. Apparently they were.

Clint’s eyes widened at the sight of his handler’s rigid cock pushing against the front of his suit pants. It. Looked. Huge. It didn’t stop him from licking his lips and murmuring, “Fuck me!”

Coulson’s façade finally broke and he smirked at Clint’s expression.

“Not this time,” he told him with the hint of a smile. “Come here, Clint.”

He didn't miss that Coulson has used his first name not once but twice now and it made him feel special. Wanted.

Without dwelling on it for too long, the archer moved in between Coulson’s legs as commanded. His jeans were undone but he made no effort to drop them. Instead he allowed Coulson to reach out and opened them wider before carefully tugging them down past his thighs.

At Clint’s nod, he gripped the back of Clint’s legs pulling him closer then lowered his head beginning to mouth his cock through the tight boxer briefs getting a feel for him, for his size, making Clint close his eyes and moan gently. When he’d sucked a wet patch into the cloth he looked up at Clint again, his eyes hooded and hungry.

“Want to taste you. Gonna take you in my mouth. Suck you dry. Want you to fuck my face until you come.”

Clint had often dreamed about his handler saying similar filthy words to him. He’d gotten off on the thought many times. But he’d never imagined for one moment it would ever happen. That Phil Coulson would ever want to blow him never mind suggest he fuck his face.

Suddenly devoid of the ability to speak, Clint could only nod.

With a wicked smile, Coulson peeled down Clint's briefs freeing his cock from its confines. He’d seen the archer naked before but never lingered on his… attributes (excluding last night’s preview). Now that he had permission he wasn't going to pass up the opportunity and studied it as though it were a work of art. To him it was. The colour, the texture, the shape, the size… everything.

“Beautiful,” he breathed. That one word, or perhaps it was the way Coulson said it; with simple honesty and longing… whatever the reason, it was enough to cause a trickle of pre-come to be released from Clint's cockhead.

Coulson's eyes flicked up to Clint's and holding his gaze, he lowered his warm, wet mouth over his cock to gently suck on the tip. Clint couldn't hold back a moan as his handler’s tongue circled round and over the leaking slit, sweeping up the pre-come before sliding over his length in one slow, unhurried movement.

His hand went to the back of Coulson's head not to push or grab but to make contact. To touch as Coulson pulled back, sucking hard on his cock then languidly pushing forward, his mouth loosely wrapped around him, the flat of his tongue sliding along the underside. Once again he pulled his head back, lips tightly sealed, cheeks hollowed, drawing his mouth back before releasing him then swallowing him right back in, his tongue gliding over the vein that pulsed along his length. And he did it over and over until Clint thought he might weep.

It amazed the hell out of Clint but it seemed Coulson was enjoying having him in his mouth, taking his time, savouring him. And just when he thought it couldn’t get any better, the senior agent pulled off him (aww no!) to suck at the join between his balls and his root lathing it and his sac with his tongue before licking a long, wet stripe up his shaft (aww yeah! Fuck yeah!).

The archer writhed and whimpered above him, eyes squeezed shut. The noises Clint was making had Coulson’s cock throbbing painfully in his pants, his hole fluttering with want. The beautiful archer was coming apart because of him and it was a joy to behold.

Clint could barely breathe as he felt Coulson's mouth on him again, head bobbing over his cock taking him almost all the way down in one long swallow. His fantasies had been great but the reality was incredible. It felt…

“So good… Fuck! You feel... so... fucking... good.”

His hips snapped up as Coulson hummed around his shaft in agreement, the vibrations racing along his cock into his balls and causing a fire to break out in his spine and belly that nearly melted his insides. His cockhead slammed hard against the back of Coulson's throat almost choking him.

“Fuck! Sorry,” he apologised, immediately pulling back. Coulson's hands slid up the back of his thighs to grip his ass cheeks, squeezing them, pressing him forward again encouraging him to repeat the action. Fuck! He really _did_ want Clint to fuck his face.

Clint's right hand moved to join his left on the back of Coulson's head.

“You sure?” he rasped. Another hum of agreement, another involuntary thrust of his hips, another encouraging press. Apparently so.

And he did. Slow and controlled at first, watching his cock disappear between Coulson's swollen lips to reappear glistening with spit and pre-come. At the sight of it for the fourth time, he lost himself, thrusting up, his thick cock filling Coulson’s mouth bumping the back of his throat as he swallowed him down, nostrils flaring as he tried to breathe through his nose.

The sensation of his handler’s lips making a tight seal around him while his dick slid down into that tight wetness had Clint’s eyes rolling to the back of his head, his mouth falling open as he gasped and panted, slamming his cock deep into Coulson’s throat. He could feel his balls tightening, the fire that had started low in his belly burning hotter until he cried out grabbing a fistful of Coulson’s hair in each hand as he came down his throat.

Coulson kept sucking swallowing it all and when he finished he looked up at Clint with a filthy expression and slowly cleaned his cock with tongue.

Clint’s legs were shaking and his chest heaved with every breath. He braced himself against Coulson’s shoulder feeling vaguely guilty that he’d come in the senior agent’s mouth without much warning but fuck! _That_ was one hell of a blowjob and it was Coulson, the object of his desire, his lust for years… that had given him it. Honestly? It was all a bit too much.

He grinned down at him with a bashful look on his face.

“I’m sorry,” he apologised when he managed to get his breathing back to something approaching normal but Coulson was having none of it.

“No,” he rasped, his voice hoarse with the incredible face fucking Clint had just given him. “Knew you were going to come.”

Of course he did.

“Wanted you to.”

Oh! Okay then.

“C’n I help you with that?” Clint asked jutting his chin towards Coulson’s erection.

Coulson shook his head. “Not gonna last long. Besides strenuous exercise while hungover is dangerous. Let me do the heavy lifting... this time.”

Both Clint and Coulson snorted out a wry laugh although Coulson’s sounded painful. Probably because his throat hurt like fuck but it was so, so worth it.

“But… you can take off your t-shirt and get comfortable on my desk. Gonna mark you with my come… unless you’d rather I didn’t.”

Clint’s t-shirt was up and over his head before Coulson had finished his sentence. Fuck it was his birthday and Christmas rolled into one… for the next ten years. Hell he’d be happy with the next twenty. He had the presence of mind to pull up his jeans but didn’t bother to fasten them as the dropped down gratefully onto Coulson’s large, solid desk; his wobbly legs wouldn’t have held him up much longer. Once again he was glad that Stark didn’t do things by halves when it came to furniture in the Tower.

“Here,” Coulson said, handing him a bottle of water he'd taken from a drawer as Clint got settled. He nodded this thanks and twisted off the lid pleased to hear the seal snap. Not that he didn’t trust this handler but old habits...

Coulson took a few swallows from his own bottle which served to cool the ache in his throat before he set it down and shrugged out of his jacket, hanging it neatly over the backrest of his chair. Clint smiled.

Coulson ducked his head, a delightful blush spreading across his cheeks. With an embarrassed grin he unbuckled his belt yanking it from the loops, dropping it with a dull thud to the floor. The tie quickly followed, sliding free from his fingers curling itself around the belt. The shirt was next in this impromptu stripshow for Clint who was appreciating every moment of it, thank you very much.

For a second Coulson hesitated suddenly nervous about baring his chest; revealing his scar. But it was only for a moment.

Clint, leaning on his elbows, looked at him and said quietly, “You don’t have to take it off, Phil. It’s not a make or break deal here. I want you. I’ve always wanted you. You don’t have to... but I hope you do.”

And so he did. Clint’s soft smile was enough to encourage him to continue.

Slowly, as though he had all the time in the world when in fact he was fighting hard not to come from the way Clint was lying there watching him, he unfastened his pants letting them slip to his thighs then pushed down his black boxer briefs to join them. His cock, large and leaking, bobbed free and unfettered.

Like Coulson, Clint had caught glimpses of him naked but his gaze had always been fleeting, never daring to stop for long. Now however he stared openly taking in the glorious sight before him. Although Coulson wasn’t quite as long as Clint had thought, he was thick and the way his dick defied gravity standing proud, the head glistening, tethered to his belly with strings of pre-come, made his own cock twitch with interest again. He licked his lips.

Confidence back, Coulson smirked and moved between Clint’s legs tapping the inside of his thighs for the archer to open them wider.

Keeping his eyes on Clint’s, his right hand slid up his shaft and curled over his head to gather up the pre-come; his left dropped to his balls giving them a gentle but firm tug. He groaned and closed his eyes.

Part of Clint wanted him to keep them open so that he could see his eyes when he came but he was more than satisfied with the tiny changes in Coulson’s expression as he began to stroke himself with slow, lazy sweeps of his hand. The way his tongue flicked between his lips, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, his eyelids flickering with enjoyment as he worked his cock. He watched intrigued as the changes spread throughout his body; beads of sweat appearing across Coulson’s forehead and the skin from his face to his chest becoming beautifully flushed, his breathing growing heavy as he neared his climax.

As with most things he did, Coulson’s movements were smooth and efficient as he brought himself quickly to orgasm. The slick of the pre-come helped his hand glide over his length and after maybe ten or so strokes his breathing hitched. The hand on his balls dropped to Clint's thigh gripping tight as he leaned forward, head bowed and his body going rigid as his orgasm approached in a rush of heat. Seconds later with one final pull of his cock he came with a long drawn out groan, his body juddering and shaking while pulses of hot come spattered onto Clint’s stomach and chest.

Clint was mesmerised. That had to be the hottest thing he’d ever seen. Phil Coulson… cool, calm and collected Phil Coulson letting go, marking him with his come. It was fucking beautiful.

Slowly Coulson raised his head a small smile pulling up the corner of his mouth. 

“So...you know why I called you in here?”

“Because I accidentally send you a dick pic?”

“Accidentally?”

Clint gave him a sly grin. “Next time it won’t be.”

**Author's Note:**

> When this fic originally appeared on tumblr it stopped at “No, sir. I wouldn’t. I’d say maybe I’d hit the right target after all.” but as this is my sixty-ninth work on AO3 ("69 dude!") I couldn't leave it there. The rating *had* to change to explicit... didn't it? 
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoyed.


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